Kids and sickness go together like peanut butter and jelly—if that jelly were gross and sticky. When little ones spend their days mingling with other germy, unwashed kids, the likelihood of illness is practically guaranteed.
I can manage runny noses and fevers, but the moment I hear the words, “I think I’m going to be sick,” my heart drops. I fear a stomach virus like most folks fear a zombie apocalypse. It’s never a fun time, but when you’ve got multiple kids—especially those still mastering the art of toilet training—things can spiral into utter chaos. It’s like a game of dominoes: one child falls ill, and then the rest follow suit, or they all get hit at once, leaving you scrubbing a trail of vomit from the carpet while praying another child makes it to the bathroom on time.
The uncertainty of who will be next and the horrendous mess awaiting you makes for a tense atmosphere. The worst part? Knowing you could be the next victim, which means managing someone else’s mess while trying to suppress your own nausea. Because let’s be real, sick days are a luxury we just don’t have.
A household stomach virus outbreak is a traumatic experience, so it’s only fitting that it mirrors the five stages of grief.
Stage One: Denial
When the first child gets sick, my mind races to dismiss it. “It’s probably just something they ate,” I say with an overly bright smile. I cling to this hope like someone insisting it’s just a light drizzle while a hurricane rips through their backyard. If I convince myself it’s “nothing” loudly enough, maybe it’ll become true.
It’s nothing! Seriously! Everything is just… fine!
Stage Two: Anger
Once the child throws up a second time or diarrhea joins the party, denial is no longer an option. That’s when the frustration sets in. Why now? Laundry is piling up, sleep is elusive, and I’m drowning in a sea of germs. I feel like I’m caught in a never-ending cycle of cleaning, only to face the possibility of getting sick myself. Ugh!
Stage Three: Bargaining
Once the anger subsides, a wave of exhaustion washes over me as I contemplate the days ahead. Laundry? No thanks! I start making desperate pleas to the universe: Please let it be just one kid. Please let it end quickly. I promise I’ll never skip their multivitamins again! I even engage in a cleaning frenzy, scrubbing every surface in sight. “Look!” I shout, “I’m disinfecting everything! This has to help, right?”
Stage Four: Depression
When bargaining fails, I reluctantly accept reality. By this point, multiple kids are sick, and I’m buried under a mountain of barfy laundry. My hands are raw from scrubbing, and the carpet has new stains that no amount of cleaning can remove. I trudge through the chaos, feeling utterly defeated as I watch my kids suffer. Each new mess seems to pull me down further into despair.
Stage Five: Acceptance
Eventually, the storm begins to clear. The first sick child starts to recover, and soon enough, the last one is feeling well enough to complain. Yet, just as I start to breathe again, I feel that familiar churn in my stomach. I’m no longer in denial; I know what’s coming. I brace myself for the inevitable but try to find the silver lining: if I must be unwell, at least I can take a few hours to rest. Plus, maybe I’ll shed a few pounds on my popsicle-and-Sprite diet.
In the end, while I may feel like garbage, I know I’ll need my strength to manage my rambunctious kids, who are now back to their usual antics—and I can’t let a stomach virus win.
For more on handling sickness in your household, check out this insightful post on the five stages of grief. If you’re looking for reliable home insemination kits, CryoBaby offers great options, and for comprehensive information on pregnancy and home insemination, Progyny is an excellent resource.